that the speech of spiritual men should sound both foolhardy and foolish to men unspiritual; for the spiritual man sees into and dwells in a realm altogether shut off from the unspiritual.

"But Elisha prayed and said: Lord, I pray Thee, open his eyes that he may see." And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man-gave him spiritual vision-and behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha !

Our narrative plainly teaches that, there is such a thing as Divine help for

men.

Fire is the steady Old Testament symbol of the Divine presence; and the chariots of fire meant God's near presence and direct help, though rank on rank of beleaguering Syrians might be crowding round.

It is not to be denied that it is sometimes hard to see these horses and chariots of fire in all the mountain round about. On the battle-field of Shiloh four thousand wounded and dying men lay in their blood all night. One of them looked up reproachfully at the cold and shining stars. Why," thought he, "do they not veil their faces? They seem to wink to each other at this scene of agony, as though it were the dénouement of a comedy." Amid the thirst and the weakness and the pain and the gathering death it was very hard to see and to be certain of the help of God; but this poor fellow began to see the horses and chariots of fire in a little time. Tender memories of a hymn he had been taught in youth began to come to him; visions of a Saviour hanging in His blood upon the cross for his redemption began to pass before him; the poor fellow began to look from the material into the spiritual; from the blinking stars to the sacrificial cross; and then the sweet song of the certainty of God's help be gan to break from his parched lips,

"Now I can read my title clear

To mansions in the skies," etc. And as he saw and sung, lo, others began to sing and see as well. One

wounded man took up the song, and then another and then another still, the blue and the gray together; and as the sweet notes floated over the gory battlefield, the certainty of God's help began to comfort their poor hearts.

And here is the certainty of it; here it may be seen; in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, Emmanuel, God with us.

Think now of the application of our truth of God's help. Therefore, fear

not.

(a) Fear not to undertake the Christian life.

(b) Amid despondencies do not fear. (c) Fear not to undertake Christian duty.

(d) Fear not about death.

JUNE 5-11.-THE VALLEY OF DECISION AND THE DANGER OF STAYING IN IT.-Mark vi. 20.

Multitudes, multitudes in the Valley of Decision, exclaims the prophet Joel —that is, multitudes in the mood of debate as to whether they will distinctly choose and serve the Lord or no.

Our Scripture lifts into view a soul in the Valley of Decision, and also discloses the danger of remaining in this merely self-debateful state.

When Bunyan's pilgrim had really made up his mind to enter the Christian way; had pressed on up to the wicketgate of an unalterable determination, which neither Mr. Legality nor Mr. Worldly-Wiseman could possibly change, then, when he knocked at the wicket-gate of that distinct decision, Mr. Goodwill, who opened the gate for him, as Bunyan's pilgrim was stepping in 'gave him a pull." Then said Christian, the pilgrim, "What means that ?" And Mr. Goodwill told him : "A little distance from this gate there is erected a strong castle, of which Beelzebub is the captain; from thence both he and them that are with him shoot arrows at those that come up to this gate, if haply they may die before they enter in."

That is a touch to the life. No man

ever passes out of the Valley of Decision into distinct volition for the Lord, and does not meet many opposing influences and obstacles which he must press through quickly at all hazards. There is tremendous menace for him if he tarry. Beelzebub shoots his sharpest arrows and marshalls his strongest forces at that soul passing out of the Valley of Decision into grand and irrev ocable choice of God.

First, consider who this one in the Valley of Decision was, Herod Antipas also known as Herod the Tetrarch. He had divorced his own wife, the daughter of King Aretas, and was living incestuously with Herodias, the wife of his brother Herod Philip.

John the Baptist had never taken any lessons in that school where it is taught that it is wrong for a preacher to preach politics; and so into Herod's ear went crashing the condemnation of the utterly fearless preacher, "It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother Philip's wife."

But, though public sentiment is such that the preacher may not just then be slain, it is possible for Herod to arrest the preacher. He is accordingly seized and confined in the great and gloomy castle of Macharus.

Second, consider how this Herod the Tetrarch got into the Valley of Decision.

Bad as this man was there was yet some good in him. He was not yet an entirely hardened man. He was a Jew, and the thought of God was still a real thought to him. Conscience had not yet lost its power. The spiritual nature in him had not yet lost susceptibility. We are sure of this because of the fact our Scripture states.

Some time or other, how soon after John's imprisonment there we cannot precisely tell, Herod and Herodias made a visit to this castle of Machærus in which John the Baptist was confined. Being there Herod came into closer contact with John the Baptist. In a sense the Baptist becomes for a little time court preacher; and very evidently the preacher begins to wield influence over the king.

There is no power in the world so forceful as that of a determined and

questionless goodness. This mighty power now began to do its work on Herod.

"Herod feared John." He began to be inspired with a holy awe of the brave preacher; knew that John was a "just man and holy ;" and this goodness in John began to stir into new life the latent better and nobler nature even of the bad Herod. "Herod did many things;" according to the new version "was much perplexed;" "heard John gladly," etc. John's words Herod knows are true; conscience urges ; Herod is plainly debating whether he shall not repent of sin, put Herodias away, become God's, and rule for Him. It is thus Herod entered into the Valley of Decision. John the Baptist led him there.

And now the mighty question is whether Herod will go through that valley on and out into distinct choice of God. Ah, how many multitudes there are with Herod in this Valley of Decision how many there are in this place of sore debate with themselves between the wrong and the right! They "hear the Word gladly ;" "do many things;"

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are much perplexed," Third, behold the danger of remaining in this Valley of Decision.

It is plain enough what Herod ought to do; but instead of doing it he waits before it, still debateful.

Notice these dangers to one remaining in this Valley of Decision:

(a) Opposing persons—e.g., Herodias; (b) Opposing circumstances --e.g., Herod's birthday, feast, the dancing, his promise, oath, etc.;

(c) Opposing influences. How much more dallying Herod has now to choose against after his foolish feast, than he would have had, had he nobly chosen right in the first instance; and dallying thus one is so certain to withdraw from the valley, as Herod did, on the wrong side of it.

Fourth, behold the issue of it all: (a) Terror (Mark vi. 16);

(c) Frequently worldly ruin.

And religion was a byword and a

There is no such instance of calm, sublime audacity. Consider the condition of that ancient Rome. Of its inhabitants fully one half were slaves. There was a proposition to uniform them and so designate them, but this plan was refused, because of the fear lest the slaves, thus recognizing their own number, should come to the consciousness of the power residing in their numbers and revolt; and these slaves were not the members of an alien race, bearing the badge of a separating color, but were members frequently of the loftiest and proudest races. They did lofty work as well as lowly. They were often teachers, artists, physicians; and they were under the absolute heels of masters irresponsible. A cough, a sneeze, a slip upon the polished pave. ment, as a slave passed to give his mas. ter a cup of wine, might condemn to the galleys, might hang in crucifixion : and there was neither law nor public sentiment to punish or stigmatize the heartlessness.

Also all the old Roman heroism had died. The beastliest luxury was the main object of devotion. From $250,000 to $400,000 were expended by emperors like Nero and Heliogabalus for a single banquet. Self-denial was folly. Lust indescribable ruined and ravaged. Chastity was unknown. The purity of the family was scorned. The few rich ground the multitudinous poor to dust. There was more brotherhood in a drove of tigers than in those men who sat beneath the brilliant sun of that ancient civilization.

Also cruelty was crowned. Ten thousand men fought to the death as gladiators in the games of Trajan. Nero made torches for his gardens by wrap

out of fashion, and faith in the foolishest superstitions, auguries, postures, dreams, soothsayings, lying wonders of mediumistic necromancers had taken its place.

And life was one vast wretchedness. But one day there comes trudging along the Appian Way a small-statured, sore-eyed, emaciated, bruised, and battered prisoner. He is about to enter this renowned Rome, the metropolis of the world. He is about to announce within that sinful city a Gospel which shall break the shackles from the slave and kill that riotous self-indulgence, and change that crowned cruelty to brotherhood, and, delivering both from the guilt and from the love of sin, put in the place of that weltering wretchedness the comfort and the peace of God.

And he does not blanch or quail as he undertakes the immense experiment. There never was an audacity at once so star-touching and so calm and reasonable as his. This is what the despised prisoner says, as the gates of the proud and great and guilty city open for him : "For I am ready to preach the Gospel to them that are at Rome also; for I am not ashamed, etc.; for it is the power of God," etc.

And the calm courage of the great apostle was not misplaced. His Gospel was power. To-day the nations which closest accept his teachings are the foremost nations of the world; and in that Rome Nero is the shadowy memory, the despised apostle is the dominating presence.

And the need for power is of all human needs the hungriest. What man or woman of us is not conscious of an awful inability toward the best he knows, toward what, in his better moments, he unutterably desires. What each of us needs is this which Paul taught, the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth.

Consider, this is the power of a Di

vine brotherhood. Said the Superintendent of the Inebriate Asylum at Binghamton, N. Y.: "Some men are sent here under compulsion, almost driven by their friends; and no such man is ever cured. No man ever has gone from this asylum cured of his inebriety, unless there was some one-a sister, a mother, a wife, a maiden, who prayed for him, hoped for him, and wept for him at home." The poor weakened will could not gird itself for the deadly struggle with the awful appetite, except as it could rest itself and gird itself in the thought of a sympathizing love; but the prayer and pleading of mother or maiden are but as the winter moonbeam to the June sun, compared with the brotherly sympathy of God in Jesus Christ:

"The very God, think Abib, dost thou think?
So the All-great were the All-loving too;
So through its thunder comes a human voice,
Saying, "Oh heart I made, a heart beats here,
Face My hands fashioned, see it in Myself;
Thou hast no strength, nor mayest conceive of
Mine;

But love I gave thee, with Myself to love,
And thou must love Me who have died for
thee,"

Consider, this power is the power of a releasing. 'When you have done a mean, cruel, lustful deed you cannot say good-by to it." Years may have folded themselves between you and the deed, but still the evil deed is somehow yours and is with you. By remorse, by the penalty belonging to it, by the fear it necessarily breeds as I think of meeting the holy and the judging God, and by many other results and ties, still the evil deed, though long since past, fastens itself to me; but the Gospel is the power of God to release from sin. The forgiveness of the Gospel means precisely this, a putting away, a sending away of sin.

Consider, this power is the power of an empowering. By regeneration the nature is changed. By the indwelling spirit the better nature is steadily helped.

Consider, this power is the power of

a new destiny. Heaven is the destiny of the soul.

And for whom is this power? For every one that believeth.

JUNE 19-25.-THE LORD'S LOVE.Mark xvi. 7.

Confine attention to just these words in our Scripture, " And Peter."

Study the story of Peter's denial. Ah, yes, we stagger as Peter did! Our lives are broken, not strong, straight, sustained. The measure of our fall may never have been so great or black as Peter's; but that, like Peter, we have all very sadly and needlessly stumbled, we must all confess.

Now here is a practical and intense question. Being such Christians as are the most of us, how does our Lord regard and treat us? In the light of our Lord's treatment of the fallen Peter, let us, as we may, get answer to this question.

First, even though we are such stumbling Christians we are each one of us held by our Lord in specific memory. "And Peter"-mark how individualizing! Our Lord thinks about us one by one; knows us one by one. Though Christ had been crucified, buried, and had risen from the dead, though He had passed through such immense experiences, yet He has a special message for the special Peter. Peter had not dropped from his Lord's memory. Peter stood to Christ still in personal and particular relation. This individualizing method of the Divine knowledge is both an inspiration and a safeguard. Inspiration, because how comforting that God specifically knows each one of us; safeguard, since we cannot escape this specific knowing of us.

Second, though we be such stumbling Christians, our Lord holds us in a changeless love. Nothing can occur to Christ-not death, burial, resurrection to make Him change in love. Nor can Peter himself change Christ's love for him. The love of Christ for Peter, for you, for me, is not variable; is not now

hot now cold; is not dependent on the constancy or inconstancy of Peter, of you, of me. The love of our Lord for us is changeless notwithstanding our sinful changes.

Third, though we be such stumbling Christians, Christ loves us with an exquisitely sympathetic and delicate love. He appoints for the fallen Peter a special interview.

Fourth, though we be such stumbling Christians, our Lord regards us with a restoring love. He reinstates Peter in his apostleship (see John xxi.).

Christ loved Judas, but Judas would not love back, and so he went to his own place; but amid his stumbling Peter loved back. May Christ's love for us stir us into loving back. So His love can conquer in us and for us.

THE HIGH PRIEST OF THE GREATER

TABERNACLE.

BY PROFESSOR WILLIAM MILLIGAN, D.D., THE UNIVERSITY, ABERDEEN, SCOT.

But Christ being come a high-priest of good things to come, by a greater and more perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, that is to say, not of this building; neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by His own blood He entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us.-Heb. ix. 11, 12.

IN asking the attention of the readers of THE HOMILETIC REVIEW to one or two of the more difficult texts of the New Testament, the writer of the present short series of papers may be permitted to say that the principle of selection upon which he desires to proIceed is that of choosing texts which have a dogmatic as well as an exegetical interest. Many texts belonging mainly, if not only, to the last mentioned of these two classes might easily be found. But what the Church is at this moment earnestly engaged in seeking for is clearer light upon some, at least, of the great doctrines of her faith. The chief thing longed for by multitudes, both in America and Europe, who are either beyond her pale or but feebly attached to her, is a restatement, if it can be given, of what these great doctrines really are. The indifference to, even the outcry against dogmatic theology, which everywhere marks the

existing condition of theological thought in all the countries of the Reformation, does not, we are persuaded, spring from aversion to dogma considered in itself. Few of those who look into questions of this kind are either so ignorant or so prejudiced as to persuade themselves that the Church of Christ can live and work without a distinct dogmatic theology. Most of them will probably agree with the following words of Canon Holland, in the preface to his remark. able volume of sermons on "Creed and Character." "We are accustomed," says the Canon, "to abstract these two from each other for logical and temporary purposes; and this abstraction has had disastrous results. We all know them. They make the sickness of the hour; for men are sick, and miserable, and weak as soon as their thought has no definite relation to their moral qualities; and yet the absurd and ignorant commonplace that Christianity is a separate matter from its dogmatic belief persuades men to accept a false division, which attempts to break up the undivided unity of the man, to sever the inseverable. No wonder they find themselves enfeebled and disturbed by such an impossible divorce." With these words few reflecting men will refuse to agree; and hence our belief that the present wandering of the heart from dogma is less a wandering from the idea of dogma in any form than from certain particular forms in which it is placed before the world. Nothing, therefore, can be more worthy of the